She was very much processing every word he was saying. Georgia Nielsen was no intellectual lightweight.

He gestured to her already nearly empty glass. “More water, Georgia?”

“I’m fine.”

Yes, she was. She was actually more than fine, and it would be a problem if he didn’t check his interest immediately. What they needed were boring topics. Safe subjects. And distance. “We Greeks like our water. We serve water with coffee, water with dessert. It’s often the beverage of choice—” His voice was drowned out by the roar of an engine.

He fell silent as the white Falcon that had brought Georgia to the island flew directly overhead. Georgia’s head tipped, and she watched the plane take off, soaring up into the sky.

“Your plane doesn’t stay here?”

“No. The hangar’s in Athens.”

She was still watching the jet. He watched her, appreciating the elegant lines and delicate angles of her face. The gold of her hair. The cool blue-gray of her eyes. Her complexion wasn’t pink but palest cream with just a hint of gold.

Elsa’s complexion hadn’t been honey, but pink and cream. Roses and porcelain. The blue of her eyes had been more violet. Her lips were smaller, her eyes set a little wider. Doll-like.

Georgia was nothing like a doll.

She turned her attention from the sky back to him. “Why Athens?”

“It’s where I keep all of my planes.”

“You have more?”

“Yes. Helicopters, too.”

“Any boats?”

“Of course. I live on a remote island.”

She pushed a blond tendril back from her brow. “Is it too late to tour the island now?”

“The sun will be setting in the next hour. It’s better to wait for the morning. I’ll show you the gardens, the walking paths and the pool. I imagine you’ll want to get your exercise in.” He rose and went to get the water pitcher and refill her glass. “Mr. Laurent said you exercise regularly. Is that still the case?”

“I walk, swim and cycle and lift weights—”

“No more weights.”

She laughed, amused, the sound soft and husky.